Convergence Page 3

  Athos felt a pang of jealousy. Did Aramis mean so much more to the Leader than all the rest? Why? Would the Leader react in a similar fashion if his Tracker were the one in a coma?

  He didn’t know.

  “Sir?” Scott’s voice carried through the communication system, startling him. “We’re now entering the zone identified as the location of the rebel base by the Hunter Porthos.”

  Athos nodded. “All members of the fleet are to move to monitoring stations at once. We’ll begin canvassing the area in fifteen minutes.”

  The fleet divided into four sets of three, crisscrossing on north-south and east-west paths, each trio of subs one hundred feet deeper than the set above. After completing a pass through the target zone at a specified depth, each group would circle around while diving an additional four hundred feet for their next pass through. Members of each submarine watched with eyes until the sunlight faded away and then with instruments for any sign of a physical structure that might house a collection of Energy-using traitors.

  Time crawled by.

  Athos watched the world outside through the view screen even after they lost all natural lighting. They piloted in the dark using radar and sonar and other technology he didn’t understand, beyond knowing they prevented collisions with anything large enough to damage a submarine. Each sub had an identified partner vessel where crew members could teleport in the event of catastrophic damage to their submarine, a precaution established to avoid certain death.

  One captain asked what would happen if multiple submarines suffered such damage. Athos didn’t answer.

  With each dive, the Energy permeating the submarine intensified. But three hours later, they’d found nothing. No settlement. No strange ships housing the cowardly Alliance.

  “Sir?” Scott hailed him once more. “The deepest subs are now to their maximum safe depths. We… sir, we can’t safely travel any deeper.”

  Athos clenched his teeth. Had Porthos failed them? “The Tacitus will make one final dive, then. The Chameleon will take my crew aboard should we experience hull failure. Should we fail to locate the settlement on this dive, we will make the journey back to the surface at a safe pace.”

  He could almost see Scott nodding. “Understood, sir. Good luck to you and your crew.”

  He could feel the tension in the submarine as the vessel began the deep dive, could almost feel the miles of frigid water pressing down with an unfathomable weight. How had Stark managed to dive to such depths centuries ago if Porthos had in fact located the proper entrance point? Was Alliance technology so much more advanced than Aliomenti technology even then?

  The Tacitus slid further into the depths of the frigid ocean water, and Athos hissed out a held breath as he heard the creaking echoes around him, wondering if the submarine hull would hold together. The crew began to furtively glance around, staring at the walls, as if shocked they remained intact. They passed the previous lowest trio of subs by ten feet, by twenty feet. The instrumentation detected nothing. They passed fifty feet, and still—

  “Sir! A crack!”

  The shout awakened the bridge, and everyone scrambled. Each man aboard had been screened to ensure sufficient Energy for long-range teleportation, and each teleported instantly to the Chameleon. Athos’ pulse rate skyrocketed, and he took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself as the sweat poured from his brow. He shivered.

  Scott moved to Athos, his brow furrowed with concern. “Are you okay, sir?”

  Athos nodded. “Report?”

  Scott glanced around at the men. “You left just in time, sir. Our sensors show that the Tacitus has suffered a complete hull breach and the craft has ruptured. It will sink to the sea floor.”

  Athos frowned and wiped his brow, and then nodded. “I’ll need a moment at the comm station.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Alone.”

  “Of course, sir.”

  They made their way through the now-crowded bridge. The man handling communications with the other submarines moved aside. He handed the headset to Athos and stepped away. Athos sat in the chair. “Connect me with Headquarters, please.”

  Moments later, the voice of the Leader came online. “Report, Athos.”

  Athos glanced at the comms man, who looked to his captain for guidance. Scott nodded his head away from the comm station. Both men moved away, giving Athos some privacy.

  “Sir, we scanned the depths of the ocean at the coordinates provided by Porthos. There is no sign in that area of an Alliance base of operations. In the process, I took my own vessel deeper than any other, to a depth the submarines weren’t meant to reach in order to ensure our findings. In addition to confirming what I’ve just reported, we suffered a complete structural failure of the Tacitus. All the men aboard teleported to safety. We are down to eleven submarines, sir.”

  “I see.” There was a pause. Athos wondered about the Leader’s tone, uncertain if the Leader had heard a word he’d said. “Are you the only one able to hear me, Athos?”

  “Affirmative, sir.” Athos could hear the tension in the Leader’s voice.

  “I must relay the news I just received, Athos. The doctors… they just contacted me… and… Athos, we’ve lost Aramis. He’s gone. I… just… just find the base of the Alliance, Athos, no matter the cost. They need to pay. They must pay.” The Leader disconnected.

  Athos couldn’t be certain, but it had sounded like the Leader was near tears.

  He disconnected his own link, removed the headset, and stood, dazed. His Hunting partner of five centuries was dead, killed due to the actions of the Alliance. He felt his anger stoked anew, pulsing to levels he’d never reached before.

  He walked to the bridge and faced the men, motioning for their attention. He looked at the comms man. “Open an audio channel to the rest of the submarines and have the captains ensure all of the men are able to hear me.”

  “I’m not sure how—”

  “Do it!” Athos shouted.

  The man scurried about, and moments later, he let Athos know that the microphone in his hand would transmit his words to the entire crew.

  Athos spoke. “We’re not leaving, gentlemen. We will find the enemy. We will enter their homes. And we will slaughter every single living soul we encounter within.”

  A cheer rose.

  Athos remembered the shark. He’d stoke his team of sharks into a feeding frenzy.

  Now he just needed to find the minnows.

  V

  THE FLYING SPHERE DESCENDED INTO the trees outside the human settlement on the northeast portion of Aliomenti Headquarters Island, silent and invisible to human perception and all manner of technology sensors. Hope deployed the Energy eating device, feeling the depletion in the form of a drop of several degrees in the cabin. After ensuring no hint of Energy remained, she surrounded herself in an exoskeleton of nanos. She tapped the sphere remote on her wrist and the sphere walls turned permeable. She stepped out of the sphere to the springy grass below, invisible to the world around her. A second tap locked the craft and sent it one hundred feet into the air. She felt a light gust of wind generated by the sphere as it rose noiselessly to its temporary resting spot.

  Her backpack felt oddly heavy, which was puzzling as she’d deployed the largest pieces of technology before she’d left Eden. Only the squeezable tubes remained. Perhaps the excessive weight was purely psychological, the manifestation of the Atlas’ globe in the form of a bag of toothpaste-sized tubes. She frowned, then reformed the nano-bag into the form of a shoulder purse. That made more sense. If, for some reason, she needed to appear in her altered form, the purse would look more appropriate than the large backpack. The tubes took up little space, and the large bag was excessive.

  She surveyed the village as she walked through. The walkways were simple and narrow and the cottages small, a layout intended to encourage the single life for residents just as Arthur had decreed back in the old North Village. Hope couldn’t help but reminisce—though not fo
ndly—about those days and the clear ties to what she saw before her here today. Keep people separated. Prevent the development of close relationships. Ensure that business was central and preeminent in their lives. Dissuade and discourage any efforts to resist his persuasions and ideas and commands, whether offered in kindness or through force. She shook her invisible head. Only the scale had changed from those days in the old North Village.

  She moved through the grass toward the monorail station. The springy turf muffled her invisible footfalls. She wondered what the human residents of the village might think if they watched foot-shaped indentations appear. The monorail line connected the human village with the primary Headquarters region of the island where work, entertainment, food, and shopping opportunities abounded.

  She used the nano exoskeleton to float atop the monorail train. Gena, who’d frequented the Island in disguise on a regular basis to gather intelligence, had recommended this mode of travel. It provided the quickest mode of travel that didn’t use Energy, and didn’t require the mental focus required to fly via nanos to the far side of the Island. Much as she preferred teleportation, she’d not risk it with Porthos just a few miles away.

  Thirty minutes later, she dismounted the top of the train at Headquarters Plaza. She watched the human riders flow from the cars and move toward the single gate, some murmuring, most just walking with purpose. Once beyond the gate, though, the chatter and energy increased. Humans became more alive with greater freedom, even in the most mundane possible examples.

  Hope waited for the human crowds to disperse. She then slid toward the gate that enforced the Aliomenti security system for the monorail. The Aliomenti didn’t actually need a security system for their transportation system. The human passengers wouldn’t cause trouble unless her father commanded them to do so, and no security system would prevent the residents—human or Aliomenti—from carrying out the decrees of Arthur Lowell. The Aliomenti never rode the monorail, having no desire to travel to the human villages or social spots and having no need of mass transit even if they did. As such, no Aliomenti hand print would generate a positive identification from the scanners. Hope knew her father. He’d set the system up to control the humans and provide a system of social shame. Their spying efforts revealed that every few months, a human would have travel permissions revoked and be unable to board the train. Most stayed behind at Headquarters to await whatever public punishment deemed appropriate by the Aliomenti. A few decided to try to walk to the human villages.

  The latter group were never heard from again.

  A guard, resplendent in his uniform, walked toward the gate, swinging a baton in a subtle-but-threatening manner. The people in the crowd accelerated toward their final destination. Hope caught sight of the man’s name—Rand—and filed it away in the event she needed it later on. The crowds, guards, and gate workers slowly dispersed, until Hope remained alone on the Plaza.

  Time to get to work.

  Hope flew noiselessly toward the scanner. The device was a clear circle about ten inches in diameter, backlit by a faint white light, where prospective riders placed their palms for clearance. Hope knew the circle would turn green when the rider’s palm matched and they were approved. On those rare occasions, the light would turn red, and the on-duty technician would summon a guard to escort the miscreant away, shouting the name of the troublemaker for all to hear.

  Hope expanded her nanoskeleton to give her visibility into her nano-purse, removed one of the toothpaste-style tubes, and approached the scanner, alert to any movement. The next train would arrive in about fifteen minutes, and the first riders would begin to queue up in about five minutes. She held the tube above the scanner and evaporated it, allowing the gel-like substance inside to fall upon the screen. The scanner didn’t detect it, remaining backlit with the white light. She reformed the nanos into a small brush and smoothed the gel over the surface of the glass, leaving a small gap in the center. She pulled a second the nano-tube from her purse, checked the label, and squeezed the material onto the glass, inside the small gap in the first substance. She vibrated the nanos forming the brush to ensure the first gel was gone, then spread the second out on the interior. She checked the scanner from all angles to ensure a smooth distribution, then pulled a tiny spray bottle from her purse, sending small puffs upon the two gels. The substances, once faintly visible with the backlit screen, turned invisible. Satisfied, Hope stored her remaining supplies in the purse and slung it over her shoulder.

  She pulled her nanoskeleton tight to her body once more and moved away, just as the next train pulled into the station, rolling to a silent stop. Hope flew silently atop the train, watching as the passengers lined up to work through security and board. The security guard ambled back into place and the meandering line began moving forward. One after another, they touched the screen and watched the light turn green.

  “Step aside.”

  Hope felt her skin chill at the words. The emotion of surprise swept over her, overwhelming her empathy senses. She rolled on to her belly and peered through the gate area, seeking the man who owned that voice.

  Porthos.

  The man wore his usual cloak with the hood down. She tried to remember the reason he’d preferred the accessory for so long, but her memory failed. She mentally shrugged, considering the reason unimportant. It was far more critical that she understand what he was doing. No Aliomenti deigned ride the monorail. Porthos’ presence here was unexpected, and could drastically alter her plans for this mission.

  Porthos pushed his way to the line, smirking as the humans properly waiting their turns first protested and then fell silent as the identity of the pusher became apparent. He moved with swarthy confidence, but Hope watched his eyes darting around as if… expecting an attack.

  She refrained from sighing. They had to expect an attack at some point. Perhaps Porthos had gotten paranoid. Just so long as he didn’t—

  She watched in horror as Porthos placed his hand upon the reader.

  She gulped, her pulse racing. The temperature seemed to drop from a warm summer day to a blustery winter. Why would a Hunter look to ride the train? More to the point, why did he bother with the security? Why not just climb aboard? No human guard would disallow him access to the train. She frowned, watching, as she tried to figure out what to do about the larger issue.

  The gel was on Porthos’ hand. That would have a disastrous impact upon the invasion plan. She had to figure out what to do.

  The light flared red, and the guard’s face turned purple. She knew her duty: call in the red light violation. And yet her mental programming wouldn’t allow her to do anything of the sort.

  Porthos smiled. “Call it in.”

  The woman nodded with great hesitation, and picked up the red phone attached to the back side of the palm reader column. She held the phone to her head and spoke quietly. She finally nodded, hung up the phone, and faced the Hunter. “I’ve been told to tell you that everything worked as designed and to let you board, Mr. Sebastian.”

  Porthos nodded. “Splendid, my dear. Sorry for the trouble.” He flashed a smile, and the woman’s face went from purple to red. The barrier door opened, and the Hunter sauntered through, glancing at the train. The Hunter moved to the back of the train, and Hope used the nanos to float above him, watching.

  He moved to the last car on the train and glared around at the occupants. “Clear out.”

  The humans in the car scurried out and moved to different cars, their faces registering a combination of surprise and mild annoyance. Hope shook her head.

  Moments later, the chime sounded, announcing the closing of the doors and departure of the train. Hope settled down atop Porthos’ car, “listening” to his Energy. He was nervous, but not panicked. There was some anger, and much to her shock the mental image associated with that anger was Arthur. She also sensed fear, and concentrated on that emotion. He was worried about the Alliance. No, not the Alliance. He was mildly worried about Will. But his greatest fear
in any impending invasion of the Island was a confrontation with someone called the Destructor. She thought about that and realized who he meant.

  A wry smile cracked her invisible face. Fil’s devastating release of Energy in the wake of the terror inflicted by Abaddon had struck terror in the heart of at least one Hunter. “That’s my boy,” she whispered. And she pumped her fist.

  The train pulled away from Headquarters Plaza, moving south for a tantalizing view of the Aliomenti residential area. Filled with opulent homes and restaurants serving the most decadent of foods, the Aliomenti area existed in marked contrast to the human settlement on the opposite side of the Island. The train glided along in smooth silence. Hope wasn’t fooled. The silent ride didn’t exist for the comfort of the humans. They’d made the investment because the residents in the village complained about the noise level when the train rolled by.

  The train moved beyond the Aliomenti residential areas into the unpopulated, forested areas on the southern portion of the Island before swerving to the northeast on a course for the human residential areas. Hope enjoyed the sensation of the wind whipping through her invisible hair, closing her eyes and imagining she was sailing along the river on Eden rather than initiating a war.